


Snowfall

by talesofsymphoniac



Category: The Death Gate Cycle - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic Fluff, Family, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 05:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofsymphoniac/pseuds/talesofsymphoniac
Summary: The first snow falls, and Haplo, Alfred, and Marit have a night in.





	Snowfall

“It’s snowing.”

Both Haplo and Marit looked up at Alfred’s words, but it was as if he had only been speaking to himself, enraptured as he was with the large snowflakes falling gently just outside the window. He had been standing there for some time now, just watching. In fact, he had been unusually quiet all morning, lost in his own head.

Marit caught onto the peculiarity seconds behind Haplo, though she didn’t know what to make of it any more than he did. Her eyebrows furrowed. “What, have you never seen snow before?”

For a brief moment, it seemed Alfred hadn’t heard her, absorbed in his own thoughts, but then he turned back to her, smiling in his self-conscious way. “Of course I’ve seen snow before. I didn’t realize it snowed _here,_ though.” He paused, then, smile lingering as he looked back to the window. Haplo still couldn’t quite grasp his particular mood, but he seemed relaxed, at ease in a way that they were all still becoming accustomed to. “It’s beautiful,” he said, his voice distant again.

Marit watched him a moment longer, then shook her head, apparently deciding that Alfred was a mystery better left unsolved. She turned her attention back to other things, and Haplo followed suit shortly after.

* * *

The snow didn’t slow over the course of the day. The large flakes drifted down, consistent and unhurried, as they walked along together. Marit, kept warm and dry by dimly glowing runes, made a comment to him about how mild it was. In the Labyrinth, snow meant blizzards, unforgiving storms that left unlucky Patryns all but blind to their surroundings, trudging through knee-deep snowfalls to find shelter while valuable energy was drained away for heat.

It was still going in the evening, when Marit stepped inside the house, brushing the snow from her shoulders and out of her hair.

“What’s that?” Haplo asked, eyeing the jug she carried at her side.

“From Vasu,” Marit said by way of explanation, the contents of the container sloshing as she set it on the table. “For the cold, he said.”

It was unnecessary, of course, but it didn't surprise Haplo: the sharing of resources was a familiar concept to most Patryns. “Pour some for me, too, then,” Haplo said, resolving to thank Vasu the next time they met.

Marit nodded, reaching for another glass. “Alfred?” she called, causing the man in question to start.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said with a small shrug. “It’s alcohol, isn’t it? In that case, I should probably just...”

“One drink couldn’t hurt,” Haplo interrupted, accepting his glass from Marit. “Come on, Coren.”

Alfred pursed his lips, cheeks turning just slightly pink at the sound of his name or the wink Haplo had followed it with. “I suppose. Just one,” he said cautiously, giving Marit a nod of acquiescence.

She glanced at Haplo, who was smiling into his drink, then let out a small, amused huff as she began to fill a third glass.

They conversed as they drank, not enough to lose themselves, but enough that Haplo felt the heat of it, a pleasant buzz as conversation came looser and more open. Insignificant things, mostly; the sundry remarks on the events of the day and what the next ones might hold, the kinds of exchanges that betrayed the domesticity that had, somehow, become a treasured part of their life together.

In the end, Alfred finished the glass plus a little more, surprised at the sweetness of the drink. Marit seemed skeptical, at first, but before long her glass was empty twice over, her cheeks taking on a rosy glow against deep brown.

It was comfortable and warm, but somehow not enough for Alfred, who said something about getting a blanket before setting his glass down, making his way to his feet only to immediately fall back into his seat next to Haplo.

“I’ve got it,” Haplo said, barely suppressing a laugh as Alfred blinked, apparently confused as to how he had ended up right back where he’d started.

As he stood to do just that, he heard Marit giggle, a rare sound indeed. “My, Alfred,” she said, “Are you drunk just from that?”

“Not drunk,” he heard Alfred protest, followed by another snort from Marit that made him relent. “Maybe tipsy, but…”

“‘Tipsy,’” Haplo echoed, finding what he was looking for and making his way back to the couch. “Yeah, you’re tipping all over the place.”

Alfred laughed, his cheeks flushed, and the sound was almost musical, cheerful and open. Even when he finally managed to catch his breath, his eyes positively glittered with delight. It was distracting, and Haplo couldn’t quite bring himself to blame the alcohol.

“Coren,” he called, and Alfred, still smiling, seemed to refocus.

“Ah, thank you.” He took the blanket Haplo offered, wrapping it around himself and shutting his eyes with a contented sigh. “I love it when you call me that, you know?”

Haplo, who had just taken back his own seat on the couch, found himself unable to do much besides blink dumbly. His face felt much warmer, suddenly, likely from either the alcohol or the way Marit was smirking at the both of them, endlessly entertained.

He affected a laugh, shaking his head. “What have I created?”

Alfred opened his eyes with an apologetic laugh, more flushed than ever. “Sorry, I suppose I am a little bit…” The rest of his sentence evidently escaped him, and he struggled to find another. “I… don’t have much of a tolerance for alcohol. Never have. There was one time, with Lya and Ivor-- I made a fool of myself.” He laughed again, starting on some story that was rendered all but incomprehensible with unintelligible words and vague sentences that would cut themselves off before Alfred could complete them, before he started over with some seemingly unrelated thought. It was impossible to follow, and it took Haplo a moment to realize that Alfred had finished, still wrapped in that blanket with a look on his face that was as undecipherable as his words had been.

Marit spoke, then, and the moment passed as quickly as it began.

A few hours later, silence had fallen over the room, broken only by the sound of Marit’s soft snores. She had fallen asleep right there across the couch, one foot brushing against the side of Haplo’s leg. Alfred, meanwhile, was sitting back, head turned towards the window and the still-falling snow, barely visible in the darkness outside. His expression was similar to the one he’d worn that morning, Haplo thought.

For a while, Haplo watched, too. There had been snow here before, of course, during Haplo’s years, but he had never given it much of a thought from anything other than a practical standpoint; it was an annoyance, but it was less of a hardship here than it was in the Labyrinth and that was all that really mattered. But there was a beauty about it, too, and one that he hadn’t seen until now.

Now there was a metaphor for so much of his life.

“There was no snow in any of the other worlds, was there?”

Alfred shook his head. “No,” he said simply, eyes still fixed on the world outside. “We used to make it snow over the Mid Realm, though.”

Haplo’s thoughts seemed to be coming slower than usual. “In Arianus?”

Alfred nodded. “We thought it might help…” He waved one hand vaguely. “With the water.” It took Haplo another moment to remember Arianus, with its floating islands unable to prevent rainwater from draining away. “That was the first time I visited any of the Mid Realm,” Alfred said, and now the islands in Haplo’s mind were shining bright white from the songs of the Sartan that stood at his sides, powerful and wise in his eyes. “My father took us,” he added as an afterthought. “It was nice.”

Haplo frowned, though Alfred didn’t look particularly sad, only matter-of-fact. Still, it was odd to think of Alfred as a child; it was easy to forget that there had been a time before he’d crawled out of his old tomb, a gaunt man mourning his family and his entire people. But no, he had been a child, once, with a father and a mother and-- _us,_ he’d said-- perhaps even siblings.

It was a strange thought, and one Haplo struggled to express. “I’d never heard you mention anything about the past, before.” For the second time, today, even.

Alfred considered this, eyes lowering. “Well… it’s the past.” The lines on his forehead deepened. “A different lifetime.” He shook his head, turning to face Haplo. “I don’t know what it is about today,” he confessed. “It’s just one of those…”

He trailed off, apparently unable to continue.

“You miss them,” Haplo said.

Alfred shattered. His eyes met Haplo’s, but where only hours ago there had been shimmering laughter, there was only pain, exhaustion, grief. It wrung his heart, seeing that sadness and knowing the source of it: an aching wound that he could never hope to heal, no matter how much he wished he could.

“Of course I miss them,” Alfred said, low and hoarse. His hands, laced together in his lap, clenched tightly. “My friends, my family…”

It was not the first time Haplo had seen their faces. This time, though, he saw them alive. Glimpses of faces smiling, echoes of voices and of laughter. Faded as the memories were, Haplo felt their preciousness, the sting of their loss all the more poignant.

Alfred closed his eyes, pained, and Haplo wanted to help, though he wasn’t sure how. Feeling entirely inadequate, he reached out to touch Alfred’s shoulder. The man startled, as he always did when he was touched, but then he relaxed, his head bowed in front of him. He took a breath, and Haplo wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, but it seemed to help, for after a few quiet moments, Alfred looked up again.

“I’m glad to have you now, though,” he said, and Haplo had to wonder who was trying to comfort who, now. “You and Marit.” He was smiling the sad smile that Haplo had grown all too used to. His voice grew even softer. “I… I never thought I’d have a family again, you know?”

 _Family._ Even in the past few months of living together, planning for the future-- for children, even-- none of them had applied that word to their situation. New memories filled Haplo’s mind: new glimpses of faces smiling, echoes of different voices and their laughter. And as before, Haplo felt their preciousness. His eyes stung. He swallowed thickly, the hand on Alfred’s shoulder tightening.

Alfred’s expression was shy, as if worried he had overstepped, and Haplo didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t have to be.

“Yeah,” he heard himself say. “I know, Coren.”

It was enough to make Alfred smile, wider and more genuine, and then he was leaning against Haplo in an awkward sort of seated, one-armed hug. Recovering quickly from his surprise-- Alfred so rarely reached out for any kind of touch, reluctant to impose-- Haplo adjusted to allow the closeness, Alfred’s forehead pressing against his neck.

Instead of moving away, Alfred remained slumped against him, his words coming out in low mumbles, now, beginning to slur with tiredness. “I really do love that too much. ‘S not fair…”

Haplo hummed. “Is that so, Coren?” The name felt nice to say, that slow, syrupy part of his brain decided, and so he said it again, enjoying the feel of it. “Coren, Coren…”

“Stop,” came Alfred’s voice, along with another breath of laughter. Had Haplo ever heard him laugh before tonight? It was a sudden thought, and a bit of a sad one, at that; surely he must have, but Haplo couldn’t remember. Certainly not like this: light and close and melodious, the vibration of it buzzing through him warmly.

“Coren,” he said again, just to be contrary, just as Alfred lifted his head to look at him properly. It was an instant that seemed to last much longer; Haplo could have identified every individual shade of blue in those eyes, could feel the heat of Alfred’s breath against his skin.

“Not fair,” Alfred breathed, and Haplo wondered what he was seeing, to look so captivated. “Not fair at all.”

When he moved closer, it was only to lean against Haplo again, eyes fluttering shut as he rested his head. Haplo let him, freeing his arm from where it was pinned against his side, using it to pull the other even closer.

“This is okay?” came a soft voice.

 _You don’t have to ask every time,_ he almost said, but it seemed like too much effort, and so he only grunted. Even now, with Alfred's arms holding him closer as he and shifted to fit more comfortably against him, it wouldn’t be Alfred if he didn’t ask. That was a habit that wouldn’t be broken, tonight.

Alfred drifted off like that, holding him close while Marit slept soundly at his other side, and Haplo watched over them. There was a security in knowing that they-- his _family_ , he thought, amazed all over again-- were near. Sleep would come to him, too, soon, but for now, he was happy to be here, familiar heat on all sides as he watched the snow continue to fall just outside the window.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, yes, my Christmas present to myself: extremely self-indulgent fanfiction. LET ALFRED BE CUDDLED, DANGIT.


End file.
